


The Deal

by a_q



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Body Horror, Captivity, Demon Deals, Drugs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mental Coercion, Mind Control, Mpreg, Murder, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Survival is Erik's guiding principle, every choice he makes serves only that purpose. Even taking a deal he doesn't understand with consequences he can't imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Signature

**Author's Note:**

> Based on anonymous kink meme prompt: [here](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/8700.html?thread=19277564#t19277564)  
> I started writing this fic ages ago as something to get through my writer's block, and I thought maybe posting this will help fight the block some more and I manage to write the ending too. 
> 
> I aimed for dark and morally reprehensible, so check the tags and warnings, there's stuff like murder and even more invasive mindcontrol coming up. I'll update the tags with every chapter.

”Yes, he's handsome, but I need someone more...robust.”  
  
Erik felt the cold seeping from the floor, and the chemical aftertaste of the tranquilizer burning in his throat. He struggled to stay conscious, focusing on the unfamiliar voice. He wanted to hear the rest of this conversation. His life depended on it.       
  
“Few meals will correct that,” Shaw said. “A perfect opportunity to shape him to your liking.”  
  
There was a tone in his voice that Erik had never heard. It sounded like he feared this stranger, but that couldn't be right. Shaw recognized no authority above himself.  
  
“I'm under a strict time constraint,” the man said, his tone sharp, like he had said this already and didn't like to repeat himself. “It's unfortunate he's burned up, skills like his are rare. I could've used them.”    
  
Erik heard him walk closer. He tried to turn his head to see this man who could make Shaw afraid, but he only managed to get a glimpse of his shoes from the corner of his eye. Brown. New. Strange looking, against the stained concrete floor. Erik felt his thoughts muddling, slipping away. He focused on Shaw, as was his instinct now.  
  
“He's easier to handle that way, you won't have any trouble,” Shaw said, bored. “This is the best I can do within the time limit. Do we have a deal or not?”  
  
Erik listened the silence, his heart thrumming. This was it. Shaw had no use for him anymore, and if the stranger didn't take him, Erik knew he wouldn't wake up again. Anger filled his mind like a bright red flame. He wanted to live. He wouldn't go without a fight.  
  
Pen scraped against the paper. “This is my final offer,” the man said. “And I take him with me right now.” 

* * *

Erik opened his eyes, staying still on instinct. He lay in a bed. There was a soft pillow under his head and the sheets were crisp to touch. He glanced down and noticed that he had clean clothes on now, t-shirt and pajama pants. He considered for a moment if this might be the afterlife, but then he realized that he had to take a piss. He was sure that wasn't a problem when you were dead. He got up, the floor cool under his bare feet. He walked around the bed, taking support from the wooden frame. His legs felt wobbly, his head spinning from the effect of the drugs.  
  
The room was spacious, with slanted roof and four large skylights streaming pale light on the wooden floor. There wasn't much furniture beside the bed. A chair and a night table, both looking old, heavy and expensive. Two doors side by side, and he tried them both. The first one was locked and the other opened to the bathroom.  
  
It wasn't a big bathroom, but it astonished him all the same. There was a sink, a toilet and a bathtub. He spent awhile admiring the stacks of clean towels next to the tub, the blocks of untouched soap that smelled like honey. He found a toothbrush and paste at the sink and he laughed from the ridiculous luxury of it. He brushed his teeth until his bladder reminded that he had needed the bathroom for other reasons.

He pissed, and then washed his hands, enthralled by the thick foam of the honey soap. He washed his face too, and only then noticed that there was no mirror. He dried his face, trying to think a reason for that. He glanced around again. There wasn't any movable fixtures and the only window was a small, round skylight.  
  
Nothing to turn into a weapon, and no way out.  
  
Erik accepted that fact without fear. He hadn't survived this long without learning how to preserve energy, waiting for the situation to change. There might not be a way out now, but there would be, he was sure of it. He had gotten away from Shaw, in the end. Even if it wasn't the way he had planned.  
  
Erik got out of the bathroom and found a man waiting for him. He stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets. Lean build, neat suit, new shoes. He looked mundane, but Erik had learned that expensive suits could hide all kinds of monsters. 

Erik squeezed the door handle, taking a step back to the bathroom. He could barricade himself in there if need be. It would be a dead-end, but door was solid wood, it would take time to break it. At least he could buy some time to think how to get out of here.  
  
The man looked at him and smiled.  
  
”You would be more comfortable in the bed than in the bathroom,” he said. ”You are tired, aren't you?”  
  
It was true. Erik felt exhausted, his muscles trembling like he had run for hours, but he tried his best to stand up straight, not to show any weakness. “Who are you? Where am I?”  
   
“The explanation is rather long to both of those questions, I'm afraid. Why don't you come back to bed? You could rest while we talk.”  
  
Erik hesitated. He didn't want to give up his only advantage, the sturdy door, but he had to find out more to make a working plan how to get out of here. Where he was, for start. Erik walked carefully back to the bed and sat down, slipping his cold feet under the blanket.    
  
The man came closer, pulling the blanket further up over him, as if he was truly concerned about his comfort. “There we go. Much better, don't you think?”  He sat on the chair set next to the bed, digging a cigarette case from his pocket. 

Erik watched him carefully, picking up any details he could. The man sat there, relaxed and in control. He owned this place, or at least wasn't worried anyone interrupting him here. He wasn't tall, but he seemed to fill the space, commanding attention. It was hard to look away from him. There was something about him that niggled at Erik's instincts, warning him. If he had his abilities, maybe it would've been a different story, but right now Erik didn't see a way to getting past this man.  
  
“Do you miss it?” the man asked and snapped the case open, picking one thin cigarette and tapping it against the case. “Your abilities?”  
  
Erik watched him light the cigarette, the lighter carved with a scaled pattern. He inhaled, and blew the smoke out in a long stream. It smelled good and Erik wished he would give him one.

“I'm sorry, but your current state of health doesn't allow it. You were given quite the battery of substances, and I had to detox you rather aggressively,” the man said and slipped the case back to his pocket. “Smoking would make you sick.”  
  
“You can see my thoughts,” Erik said, trying to think what that meant, and not to think anything at the same time. He had heard about telepathy. Shaw had spent a lot of time and money trying to find someone with that skill, without much success.  
  
“That's right,” he said and smiled. “Does it bother you?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I appreciate the honesty,” he said. “So. Do you miss your powers?”  
  
“Yes,” Erik said. There was no point lying, if he could see his thoughts. “Doesn't matter if I do or if I don't. I can't feel metal anymore.”  
  
It was painful to remember how Shaw had sucked him dry, slowly, taking more and more of his abilities and how he had been powerless to stop him. It made his hate for Shaw that much deeper.  
  
“It's not as bad as you think,” the man said. “I can return your powers to you.”  
  
“Why would I believe that? I don't even know your name.”  
  
There was something strange about him, but Erik couldn't figure out what felt wrong. Maybe it was the stupid flicker of hope that he was telling him the truth.  
  
“You can call me Charles.”

“I don't think you will heal me out of goodness of your heart,” Erik scoffed. ”What do you want? I have nothing.”  
  
“That's not exactly true,” Charles said. “You have yourself, don't you? I wish to keep you in my service for two hundred and eighty days starting from the spring equinox, and as payment, I'll return your powers to you. Here.”  
  
He dug his pocket again and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened the paper and held it out to him. “In addition, you will get this sum, marked here, either in diamonds, gold or in the currency of your choice.”  
  
Erik frowned. His offer made no sense to him. Why bother with some contract? Erik couldn't stop this Charles from doing anything he wanted to him, not when he was weak like this.    
  
“I could force you, yes, but I would rather have your cooperation,” he said, watching him. The cigarette glowed between his fingers, the smoke curling up as a thin ribbon. “You would do me a great service, and you should be recompensed for it. Please, would you at least read it?”  
  
“What happens if I don't sign it?”  
  
“I'll tell the servants to bring you some clothes, and you are free to leave. It's three miles to the nearest town, but the weather is lovely. I'm sure you'll be fine.” He folded the paper and set it on the nightstand, then pulled a fountain pen from his breast pocket and added it on top of the paper. “Or you can sign this and walk out a few months later as a wealthy, powerful man. Pragmatism has its merits.”

“Can I think about it?”  
  
“Of course, but don't take too long. The equinox is in twelve hours and when that marker passes, the contract is void.” Charles stood up, placed the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and buttoned his jacket. “The servant will bring you dinner.”  
  
“I'm not hungry.” Erik couldn't tell if he was hungry or not, he had lost that sense a long time ago, but it felt wiser not to accept anything from him at the moment.    
  
“As you wish.” He walked out, closing the door behind him.  
  
Erik didn't hear a lock turn, but that didn't mean much. He didn't know how big this house was, and Charles had mentioned staff. Loyal to him, no doubt. Besides, Erik wasn't sure if he could make it as far as the bathroom again, let alone a three-mile hike to the nearest town, if what Charles said was true.     
  
Erik took the contract from the table and read it through. It was short, and there wasn't much details. It was easy to see what he would gain from the contract, but not what he would have to give in turn. There was a mention of 'a confined somatic disturbance'. He didn't know what it meant exactly, but he didn't like the implications. Every time he kept returning to the one paragraph, where it stated that he would receive his powers back at the end of the contract. 'In original or improved condition', it said.  
  
That sounded too good to be true, but he wasn't sure if he cared. If he had his powers back, he would be strong again. No one could threaten him, hurt him.  
  
He could kill Shaw. 

Erik dropped the paper on the nightstand and settled back against the pillow. He felt groggy, and thirsty. The smell of honey soap made him think that he could get up and go back to the bathroom for water. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength.    
  
He woke up startled, the rain beating against the skylight, the room dark. He had no idea how long he had slept. He grabbed the pen and the contract, searching for the line at the bottom. He signed his name with a hurried stroke, afraid that he was too late. Charles had said that the contract would be void before morning.  
  
The pen felt cold and heavy in his fingers. When he lifted the nib from the paper, his signature illuminated, the flash clear in the dim light. He dropped the paper, surprised, and the contract fell to the floor with a clank, like the contract was written on metal instead of paper.  
  
The door opened and someone flicked the light switch, the sudden brightness hurting Erik's eyes. The switch snapped again, the room falling back to darkness.  
  
“You signed.” Charles' voice was soft, melting with the sound of rain. He walked to him, leaning to pick the contract from the floor. The room smelled damp, like the water had found a way in through the skylight.  
  
“I don't care what I have to do,” Erik said. “I want my powers. I need them, give them to me.”

“And you will have them, in due time,” Charles said, folding the paper and putting it back to his pocket. ”First, I want you to drink this.”  
  
He held a glass in his hand. Erik didn't want to drink it, but he couldn't refuse him. Charles lifted his head and held the glass against his lips. The liquid was thick and cold, but tasteless. He felt relaxed, hazy, like there was a soft cloud around him.  
  
"There we go. Don't fight it," Charles said, his voice quiet.  
  
Erik startled awake and tried to move, only to realize that he was submerged in water. He could see the edges of the tub as a white circle, the water itself dark and warm. He tried to move his head to look around but a hand pressed against his forehead, smoothing his hair.  
  
“My apologies for the hurried process, but I'm afraid the planetary movements wait no one,” Charles said, crouching down next to the tub.    
  
His bare chest was ghastly pale, filled with complicated pattern of scars that squirmed over his shoulders and arms. Erik liked the look of them, and he tried to lift his hand to touch him. Nothing happened, his arms floating in water like dead twigs. 

“It's important that you stay still, so I restricted your mobility. Try to stay calm, it's not permanent,” Charles said and pressed a kiss on his forehead. His lips felt cold against his skin.  
  
Then he noticed the set of blades spread at the edge of the tub. ”Will it hurt?” Erik asked. Pain didn't bother him as much as it used to, but it was better to know in advantage. It was always better to know.  
  
Charles followed his line of sight to the blades. ”No, those are for me, not for you. Don't worry, you don't have to experience this. I only need full rein to your body, not your mind. Would you like to dream? To keep you entertained?”  
  
Erik didn't know what to say. Maybe he should've been afraid, but he wasn't. It didn't feel real, and he never wasted energy fearing imaginary things.  
  
“No. Not a dream but a memory,” Charles said quietly, and brushed his fingers across his forehead. “You wish to speak with your mother. That's fitting. Sleep, then. You are safe here.”  
  
Erik wanted to tell him that no where was truly safe, not ever, but he forgot all about it as the sleep pulled him back to its hold. 


	2. Some restrictive conditions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tags for this chapter: suicidal thoughts, hand jobs

After that night Erik spent days trying to piece together what he had dreamt about, but he couldn't remember any details. It all muddled together into vague sense of well-being, which helped him endure the weeks that followed. He had bouts of high fever that left him lethargic and weak. The days bled together, and it was hard to keep up what was happening around him. He tried to observe the little he could.

There were servants in his room all the time, changing his clothes and bed linen, bringing him food and helping him in the bathroom. Erik tried to keep up with their faces, but they all looked the same after awhile, with their shiny hair and pressed shirts. It was like they were all related to each other, though their features were too different for it to be true. He tried to talk with the servants, but they merely smiled in response, or shook their head if he pestered them for too long. 

Either they were ordered not to speak with him, or they didn't have the same language. Whatever the reason, the servants weren't any help for getting more information about Charles or about this place. 

Erik spent his more lucid moments trying to piece together what might have happened in the tub. Beside the fever, he didn't feel any different. He couldn't find any visible wounds on himself and he wasn't in any pain. Erik knew enough about experiments to realize that this couldn't be all there was, but he couldn't figure out the tub and the warm water. What had been the point of that? 

Charles came by every day, to sit on his bedside. Erik thought about asking him what was happening, but Charles never stayed for long and there never seemed to be a right moment. Finally he gave up thinking about it. It didn't matter what had happened in the tub, it was done. It was a waste of energy to think about it, and he needed to preserve his.

Slowly the fevers eased and Erik started to feel better, more alert. One morning Erik watched the servant take the breakfast tray away, leaving the door open behind him. Erik stared at that open door, waiting for the servant notice his mistake and come back to lock it. The corridor outside the door was empty and quiet. 

It was just a whim. 

Erik got up, his legs shaky after laying in the bed for so long. After a moment of adjusting and stretching, he felt fine enough to walk to the door, glancing out to the hallway. He waited for a second, but there was no alarm, no shouts for him to stop. Erik took a deep breath and stepped outside the door. 

The corridor continued to both directions, looking identical. Erik considered the possible layout of the house. If he was at the attic like the skylights suggested, and the way the servants brought up hot meals, there had to be stairs or an elevator to downstairs somewhere close by. There seemed to be more light coming from the right, so Erik chose that side and walked quietly forward, the carpet muting his steps.

The hallway joined in to another and Erik chose right corridor again. He took a quick peaks inside other rooms, but they were all empty and full of dust. Soon the carpet changed into wooden floorboards, dull with dust and dirt, the ceiling slanting lower. Erik realized he was headed deeper inside the attic instead closer to any kind of exit. He should've turned around at that point, but for some reason it felt important to see there was something beyond his room. Roads, trees.  
Fresh air. 

There had to be a window somewhere, at least. 

So Erik kept walking until he came into a dead end, the corridor tapering off to nothing. Erik sighed, taking support from the wall. He sat down clumsily, leaning his back against the dusty wall. The floor felt freezing under his bare feet and the cold crawled up his legs. 

He must've dozed off, because when he looked around again, he saw the servants standing a feet from him, looking worried and more animated than he had ever seen them. Someone had put a coat around his shoulders and it smelled like rain and fresh air. 

“Erik, can you hear me?”

Charles crouched next to him, his fingers pressed against his wrist. He was checking his pulse. Erik grunted and tugged his hand free, annoyed. He wasn't going to die to a bit of cold. 

“Please don't leave the room, you are not well yet,” Charles said. “Everyone was worried. If you want something, simply ask. The servants will bring you anything you wish.” 

“I want to go outside,” Erik muttered. 

“The weather isn't agreeable today. When the first warm day comes, I'll show you the garden. Now back to bed, don't you think? Cold isn't good for you right now.”

Before Erik could ask what he meant by that, Charles gestured to the servants and they came closer, taking a hold of Erik's arms and helping him up. Erik let them. He was tired and he wanted to get back to the warm bed. 

After that short adventure, the fever returned and Erik lost days in the haze, the servants tending him when he woke. When the fever eased again, he started to test Charles' promise. 

Erik asked for small things first. Crackers he liked, a glass of water when he already had one, a clean shirt. Then he moved on to bigger things: newspapers, books, a radio. It had been a long time since he had had something for his own entertainment, and he enjoyed the luxury. There was a world outside, even if he couldn't see it.

The servants brought him everything he asked with the same pleasant expression, never questioning why he wanted three different glasses of water, or two shirts. They still didn't talk to him, though clearly they understood what Erik said to them. 

Erik started to suspect that Charles controlled them when they were in the room with him. Or maybe he controlled the servants all the time. That was a troublesome realization. If Charles controlled them all, he had to be powerful. But how powerful? What was his range, his true style? Shaw had been like a parasite, latching on and sucking people dry into empty husks, then throwing them away. Charles didn't appear to be like that, and Erik didn't know what to make of it.

Besides the occasional queasiness, Erik started to feel better, energetic. One afternoon he was reading, waiting for the lunch to be served. The sheets felt cool tangled over his bare feet, the fabric of his t-shirt pressing against his chest. He read, not thinking about it, his hand trailing down, under the waistband of his pajama pants. He stroked himself, idle fancy, not much aim behind it. He pushed the pants further down, out of the way. He was so caught up with what he was doing, that he didn't hear the door, didn't know Charles was there before he sat down on the bed. 

Erik froze. 

”Glad to see you are feeling better,” Charles said with a smile. ”Don't mind me. Please, go on.” 

He stared at him, unable to let himself go, too petrified from being caught.

”May I help?” Charles asked. 

Erik said nothing. Charles placed his hand over his and moved it slowly up and down, the pleasure sparking back as it had never been gone. Charles watched him, waiting for him to say something. Instead, Erik closed his eyes. Maybe he should've tell him no, but he didn't want to. Charles touch felt good, oddly wide and slippery. Erik let him take over, and he stroked him firmer, faster. Erik was sure Charles read him while he did that. He was too good otherwise, doing exactly what Erik wanted, when he wanted it. He came in a hasty spasm, and Charles squeezed him gently and let go before his touch became too much. 

”The sun is finally out, and I promised you a walk. I brought you some clothes, see if they fit?” Charles tugged the sheet to wipe Erik's stomach. “I'll wait for you outside, call if you need anything.”

“Yes,” Erik said, trying to get his breathing under control. 

Charles got up and walked out, closing the door behind him. Erik laid there for a moment, his skin tingling. He didn't remember when was the last time he had done that. Must've been a while. 

He got out of the bed and went to the bathroom to wash up, before getting dressed in the clothes Charles had left on the chair. The clothes were brand new, the pair of shoes still in a box. There was even a black wool coat. It was too big for him, but it was warm. Erik buttoned it up, before opening the door. 

He found Charles waiting him in the corridor, talking quietly to one of the servants, a girl with freckles. She nodded at everything Charles said. She noticed him and turned to hurry down the corridor. Charles turned to look at him, and nodded approvingly.

“Everything fit you well?”

“Yes,” Erik said. “Thank you.”

“Excellent! This way please,” Charles said and held out his hand to let him past. They walked to the left, the corridor ending to an old elevator. It whirred and clanked as they went down to the bottom floor. 

Charles led him through the house and Erik tried his best to memorize the route, but it didn't take long until he had no idea how to get back to the elevator. 

“Don't worry, you will learn the house soon enough,” Charles said, opening another door that lead to a big hall with black and white checkered floor. “It's a particular place. Old and drafty perhaps, but beautiful.”

“You keep reading my mind,” Erik said. 

“You don't like that.”

“No, I don't.”

“I'll stop then,” Charles said, like it meant nothing to him to promise that. 

Erik didn't say anything. He didn't know how telepathy worked. Maybe Charles could make him believe anything he said, so Charles' word had just as much weight whether he lied or told the truth. Not for the first time, Erik realized that without knowing the extent of Charles' abilities, he had no hope escaping here.

Charles stopped at the end of the hall and turned to open the french doors for him, stepping aside to let Erik walk out first.

“Here we go, the garden.”

The garden opened as a vast, spring green sea before him, full of sunlight and singing birds. Erik walked out to the terrace and leaned against the banister to breathe in the fresh air. It was beautiful.

“Like it?”

Erik nodded. 

“Let's take a walk. There is a fountain in the middle.” 

Charles showed him the garden, keeping up a light conversation about different plants, the architectural structure of the house, how the weather had been lately. Erik participated in the conversation when Charles seemed to expect it but it felt surreal, from what had happened between them inside to this. Maybe he was still having fever dreams.

They had walked some time, when Charles stopped at the stone wall. It was perhaps meant as decorative, but the new bricks and fresh mortar showed that it had been recently fortified. 

“This is the edge of my property. I have to ask you not to go past the wall.”

“Why? You said that there's a town near by,” Erik said. ”Can I see it?”

“People living there don't like strangers,” Charles said and took his arm, leading him back to the grovel path, toward the house. “It's safer for you to stay here. Think of it as part of your service. Agreed?”

Erik nodded again.

“Since I promised not to read you, I would feel better if you spoke out loud.”

“Yes, I won't go past the wall,” Erik said.

“Excellent! I asked lunch to be served on the terrace.” 

After that first afternoon, Charles came to visit him more often. Usually they went for walks in the garden, but sometimes they stayed inside and there was more touching, more hand jobs. Erik let it happen. Maybe he should've fight against it, but it wasn't the first time he had exchanged sex for food. It was a familiar game he knew how to play, and it gave him a sense of control. 

Beyond that, Erik wasn't sure how to act around Charles. In the surface it looked like he kept his promise not to listen his thoughts. Charles didn't skip ahead in conversations, didn't answer questions before Erik vocalized them, but Erik was still convinced that Charles monitored his thoughts. Charles was too easy to talk to, his responses always correct and thoughtful. Besides, who would give up using such power, simply because Erik asked him to? That was absurd.

Erik started to test Charles, to prove his theory and to see where the limits lay. He thought random things that clashed violently with what Erik was saying, imagined things that might shock Charles. He had his choice of gruesome memories to throw at him, but either Charles saw through his attempts or he didn't honestly pay attention to his mental dialogue. 

It wasn't until he imagined hanging himself to the bed linen in his room that Erik got a reaction. They were in the garden, discussing some piece of news from the paper. Erik listened, and at the same time he held the image of his own dead body in front of his mind. 

Erik felt the mood shift in a split second. Charles turned to stare at him, eyes cold. Light fluctuated around him, and Erik felt the darkness swallow him.

Erik woke up in his bed. Charles sat in his usual chair, writing into a black notebook, the cigarette tangling between his fingers. He looked up, unblinking.

”I'm very disappointed, Erik.” 

He said nothing. Charles didn't look like he was in the mood to listen his explanations.

”We were making such a steady progress and then you ruin that, for what? A game?”

”I'm sorry.” He wasn't sure if he meant it, and Charles' eyes darkened even further.

“You signed your body to _my_ service. If you consider committing a suicide, I have to see that as a breach of our agreement, and I take that very seriously.”

“I didn't mean it, I swear. I was only...”

“Yes. I know what you tried to do. But I have to make sure you understand that I don't take threats lightly.” Charles reached to touch Erik's forehead. ”There are other ways for you to fulfill your contract. This particular one is the physically safest method. A small block inside your mind, and you can't move, as you'll soon notice. I don't want to use it, because it might damage your mind in the long run, but I'll let you try it, so you understand what I mean about threats.”

As Charles spoke, Erik's limbs turned heavy, unmovable. He tried to turn his head but couldn't. 

”I'm sorry,” he muttered, his face turning stiff. This time he meant it with everything he had.

Charles got up and grabbed a pillow, tugging it under his head to support his neck. "Try to breathe evenly. I'll send someone to sit with you."

Charles moved away from Erik's field of vision. He heard him pulling on his jacket, the crunch of a cigarette being put out. Erik tried to say he was sorry one more time, but he couldn't open his mouth. 

”I'll consider how we will move on from this indiscretion,” Charles said and then there was the sound of door closing, the room falling quiet after him.

Erik tried not to panic and focused on his breathing. He had been paralyzed by drugs before, he could stand it. This wasn't as bad as Shaw, after all. There wasn't any pain, he wasn't naked, there wasn't a tube down his throat. Everything was fine.

He felt his body unfroze during the night, one small fraction at the time. It wasn't painful, but the slowness of it was excruciating. He didn't dare to fall asleep, afraid he would forget how to breathe.

It was an uncomfortable and long night, and he expected Charles to come back and make it stop. 

He didn't come. 

The midday sun shone down from the skylight when he finally could move again. He took short, clumsy steps to the bathroom and realized the door was gone. 

“Why?” he asked. 

The two servants stared at him, smiling in the same pleasant way they always did, as if nothing had changed. 

“He ordered us to take the door,” one said. 

“You are not to be left alone,” the other said. 

He didn't argue with them, because there was no argument. He had find out the answer to his question. The limits were clear. Now it was only a matter of pushing them back where they had once been. 

He had to get his outdoors privileges back, otherwise he would have no chance seeing what was behind the wall.


	3. Loophole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik finds out what he has signed in for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated tags: body horror, murder

For few weeks nothing happened. Erik stayed mostly in his room, occasionally allowed to downstairs for a short walks but never outside and never without a servant or two following after him. Charles didn't visit him at all. Erik realized how much he had started to depend talking to Charles, and that bothered him. 

The servants weren't much for company, but they brought him food steadily which broke the tediousness of the day. Since Erik had nothing better to do, he ate. Erik knew it wasn't smart, because he didn't remember to control his appetite and more than once he ended up sick. 

That was how Charles found him. Erik was in the bathroom, sitting in the empty bathtub and waiting to see if the urge to throw up would overwhelm him or not. His stomach kept flipping back and forth, the rim of the bathtub was cool under his cheek and he didn't want to get up. One of the girls stood by the door, waiting to see if he needed help. Erik closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decide if a nap would help or not. 

”I don't understand why you want to stay here,” Charles said. ”Isn't the bed more comfortable?”

”Yes, but I don't want to be sick in the bed,” Erik said and opened his eyes. Charles leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. He looked the same, like nothing had changed. ”Did you came to tell me that my punishment has ended? I can get the door back?”

”It wasn't a punishment. I only tried to show you where, and how, you miscalculated.”

”That I shouldn't play games with you?” 

”That I'm ready to guard your well-being against any and all threats, including yourself.”

”Why?”

”It's important to me.”

”That isn't an answer.”

Charles smiled and came in, crouching down next to the tub and leaning his arm against the brim. ”You look tired.”

”It's all this damn food they keep shoving at me,” Erik said and relaxed. ”Anything you can do about that?”

”You can ask them to bring you food you like,” Charles said and reached to take his hand. Charles' skin felt cool, textured. ”Don't worry, nausea will pass. When your body adjusts.”

”Fresh air could help?” Erik suggested, trying hard not to sound too hopeful. He was tired staring at these same stupid walls. 

”We'll see. Maybe tomorrow.” Charles squeezed his hand gently. ”I need you to promise me you won't do anything that goes against our contract?”

”Yes.”

”Good.”

After they discussion, things settled back to the way they had been before the incident. Or almost the same. 

They still had walks in the garden, but they were shorter and the relaxed conversations were gone. More than that, Charles didn't touch him anymore. Beside the occasional walks, Erik didn't see Charles and it didn't take him long before he noticed the change. Everything seemed fine; he was warm, there was plenty of food and nothing threatened him in any way. Still he felt uncomfortable and irritated. The sun baked his room, the sheets grated his skin, the food tasted disgusting, everything was slightly wrong in ways Erik couldn't explain. 

When Charles was with him, he forgot what had bothered him and he felt fine for a few hours, but then Erik was alone again and the odd feelings returned even stronger than before. The strangeness seeped in his dreams, alerting him awake. It became impossible to ignore the constant ticking of his instincts; that something was wrong here. Irrevocably, dangerously _wrong_. 

The unshaped feeling crystallized into an idea that he was in danger. Erik couldn't see where the danger was coming from, but he wasn't going to just sit here and do nothing. He had to act. No contract or promise would stop him.

He didn't plan his escape, he didn't even think about it. He simply got up, got dressed, took his black wool coat and walked out the door. He knew the house now. It was simple: into the elevator, down the hall, out the front door, down the driveway, past the iron gate. Erik kept his eyes fixed on the road. He was out for a walk, that was all this was.

The road was narrow, just enough for one car. The trees crowded close, the branches tangled into a thick roof over the road. It was very different from the neat, tidy garden behind the wall. Erik focused back on the road, looking only forward and trying hard not to think anything out of the ordinary. The road turned, the trees covering the house out of sight and Erik walked faster. If he could get to the main road, maybe he could hitch a ride to the town.

The wind picked up and Erik pulled the coat tighter around him, trying to button it up as he walked. The first two buttons closed without a problem, but the rest wouldn't hold, the buttons slipping free from the holes. He pulled the fabric, but it made no difference. The coat wouldn't close. 

Erik stopped in the middle of the road, the sense of danger flaring up like a torch. 

The coat had been loose before, and it still looked much too large for him, but still it wouldn't close. That was impossible. Erik knew he had eaten more than ever in his life, but with all the nausea he didn't think he had gained weight that much. 

Erik slid his hand over his face, squeezing his arms. The same as it had always been, bones and muscle he could clearly feel. He patted his chest, his sides, his hips. Something was different around his stomach. His body looked the same, but he could feel it, a distortion between his perception and reality. 

He felt light-headed, hot, his skin crawling with sudden fear. What had they done to him? 

Erik stumbled off the road. He couldn't get enough air in his lunch, his chest hurting. He leaned his back against a tree and tried to take a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and think. He could make sense of it. There had to be an explanation. Experimentation. Something rational.

The tree bark was rough and sturdy under his hand, feel of it helping him to ground to reality. His breathing leveled and he straightened up, about to head back to the road when something swooshed past him and snapped on the tree trunk. Erik turned, staring at the knife quivering there where his head had been only a split second ago. The attacker was on him before he had time to react. 

“Abomination!” The man shouted, slamming against Erik's side and pushing him down to the ground. “Plague of men!”

Erik tried to struggle free, grabbing a hold of the attacker's arm to keep him away from his throat, but the man was strong and determined, aiming to kill him. He had another knife in his hand, it's serrated edge gleaming in the light. Not a real threat, if only Erik had his abilities, but without them he was vulnerable, pinned between the cold ground and the weight of the attacker. The attacker pushed the knife down, the sharpness biting into Erik's neck, the metal a high pitched sound inside his head. 

Throat slashed by a human. That was not how Erik had imagined he would die. 

One second and the weight was off of him, the attacker hanging in the air, his eyes bulging. A sharp crunch, and his head lolled down in odd angle, the body thrown aside and thumping on the ground like a sack of sand. 

“You are bleeding,” Charles said, crouching down next to him, his knees sinking in the mud. He pressed a neatly folded handkerchief against his neck. “Hold this. Hold!”

Erik pressed his hand over the handkerchief. The wound didn't hurt, but blood trickled under his shirt collar, the handkerchief turning soggy. Charles slipped his hands under his shoulders, behind his knees and lifted him up like he weighted nothing.

Charles wasn't human.

Erik felt his shape fluctuating as he carried him back to the house, like Charles had trouble holding himself together. Right under Charles' skin was some otherness that was fast and enormous, frightening. It was like listening to ocean in the darkness, same relentless power.

Erik tried to breathe steadily, but his chest felt contracted, his head light from the lack of air. “I can walk,” he tried to say. Whatever Charles was, he didn't want to be this close to him when his human form broke apart.

“No,” Charles said, his voice flat and cold, his fingers digging in his flesh. “You've done enough walking today. Calm down.”

He tried, but Erik couldn't calm himself. There was something inside him, and whatever had done this to him, was strong and alien and had him in his control. The terror overtook him and Erik struggled against Charles hold. He had to get away from him. 

“Shh, shh,” Charles hushed, holding him tighter and touching his mind. “You know me. It's alright.”

Erik's breathing eased and he closed his eyes for a moment. 

The next thing Erik knew, he was back in his room, the servants standing around with worried expressions, trying to take him from Charles' arms. 

“Out! All of you! Find those lunatics!” Charles shouted and the servants rushed out of the room like they were in one mind. Charles kicked the door shut after them so hard that the walls rattled. 

Erik knew he should be afraid, but he couldn't feel the emotion. He could observe his own fear, like a colorful fish swimming around in a glass bowl. Interesting, useless, silent. 

Maybe it was for the better.

Charles placed him on the bed, tugging the pillow under his head. He lifted the handkerchief gently to check the wound. 

“I need to clean that. Stay still or the would will open again.” Charles pressed the handkerchief back against his neck and moved away from the bed. 

Erik stared at the ceiling, listening Charles as he walked to the bathroom, the sound of water running. Only the sound of him, nothing more. Like the day when Charles had acquired him from Shaw. Buying him like a forlorn dog. There had been a reason for that, wasn't there?

Erik could think about it now, his mind clear and calm. 

_I need someone more robust. I only need free rein over your body. Serve for two hundred and eighty days, and you get your powers back._

”Confined somatic disturbance,” he said to the ceiling. “For nine months.”

He slid his hand over the curve of his stomach, feeling it clearly. There was a faint flutter in reply and his hand froze in place.

Charles came back, his steps quieter. He had taken his shoes off. He knelt next to him on the bed and reached to tend the wound, wiping it clean.

Erik turned his eyes carefully, looking at him. Distinctively human, nothing strange about him. Suit he had seen him wear before, hands, face. All familiar and yet Erik didn't know what he was looking at. 

“You bought yourself an incubator,” Erik said. “Is it a child?” 

“Yes,” Charles said, dabbing the wound with cotton. 

“Human child?”

Charles said nothing, pressing a clean cloth over the wound. 

“That's impossible,” Erik whispered.

“No, only complicated,” he said. “Your Mother Nature is a jealous hag, she likes to keep all her treasures to herself. That is, until I found the loophole, the perfect way to bring my child into this world. Not all want me to succeed, as you found out today.”

”You should've told me.”

”I've tried honesty before, it doesn't end well,” Charles said. “You shouldn't even know now, but your mind is obstinate, very severe.”

”There has been others?”

Charles didn't answer. He got up again, taking the towel and used cotton swab with him. Erik stared at the ceiling, trying to understand what that meant. He had children running around everywhere? What they looked like? What the one inside him looked like? 

”How many?” he asked when Charles returned and knelt next to him again. “How many children?”

”None. Yet,” he said, focusing back to the wound. He pressed a bandage over the wound and taped it to his skin. “You have to understand this is more art than science. I need the perfect timing, the right person, and the ideal conditions. It's a delicate balance. You are the only one who had made it this far.”

”What happened to the others?”

Charles sat down, leaning his back against the headboard. ”I reshaped their memory and send them on their way, with my gratitude and a payment for their service. Some wanted to stay and serve me still, in other ways.”

”The servants? They were all like me?”

”No one is like you,” Charles said, brushing his forehead, his touch cool as always.

”What happens now?”

”We can go on as usual. I'll hide this knowledge from your conscious mind, and readjust your perception. It might feel uncomfortable at times, but you won't know your state.”

Erik looked at him. ”No. Please, don't.”

”Ignorance can be a bliss. I want you to be comfortable.”

“No, I want the truth. Don't make me forget.”

”We can try it your way, if you promise me you'll stop with these adventures. I have to insist on that.”

Erik nodded. “I promise.”

“Thank you. I understand this is frightening, and you have no reason to trust me, but maybe you now belief me when I say I only care about your well-being?”

“I think I'll end up believing whatever you want me to,” Erik said and for a moment he thought Charles looked sad. Then he sat up, gathering the gauze and tape with him. 

“You need to drink something.”

“I'm fine,” Erik said but Charles ignored it, opening the door and walking out. He heard him talk to the servants, his voice raising for a moment before it was quiet again. Erik sat up carefully, touching his neck. It hurt, in a sort of distant way. It wasn't the first laceration he had gotten in his life. One of the servants came in, carrying a pitcher and a glass. He set the items on the night table. 

“Sorry to get you in trouble,” Erik said, trying to get a read on him. It wouldn't be good if the servants resented him now, started to take out their frustrations out on him when Charles' back was turned. The same had happened with Shaw's crew. 

“We are all glad you're alright,” he said and poured a glass of thick, flavorless liquid that always made him sleep. 

“I don't need it,” he said. 

“You need to rest,” the servant said, pleasant as ever. “He said so. Would you like me to get him for you?”

“No.” He sighed and drank it with a quick gulp, handing the glass back. At least this way he could remember that he didn't want to drink it, which was better than if Charles came in the room. He leaned against the pillow and let the dreamless sleep wash over him.


End file.
